


What's Past is Prologue

by gemothy



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Murder Mystery, References to Shakespeare, Sharing a Bed, they'll make sense eventually I promise, what a bizarre selection of tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16478744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemothy/pseuds/gemothy
Summary: Vetinari receives a late-night visit from the ghost of his father, and deals with it rather more sensibly than wossname from Nothingfjord did by calling in the Watch. Specifically, he calls in Sam Vimes, who is Not Pleased about having to spend several nights with the Patrician- at least, not at first. Based on the following prompt: https://trotzkopfwrites.tumblr.com/post/179251674612/daily-discworld-headcanon





	1. Chapter 1

 

This was not the first time Sam Vimes had been summoned to the Patrician’s palace in the middle of the night. Nor was it the first time he’d been kept waiting while a doctor was present. It was, however, the first time both of these things had happened at the same time, which was most definitely a reason to worry, and which was also the reason he was _bloody furious_ when he finally entered Vetinari’s bedroom to find the man sitting up in bed, reading a book by candlelight and looking perfectly healthy.

“Ah, good evening Vimes,” he said. “Or, more accurately, good morning.”

“It isn’t,” said Vimes. “I was asleep at home, and now I’m not, and you don’t even have the good manners to be mortally wounded even though Mossy’s just been here. What’s going on?”

Vetinari set his book aside. “I appear to have had a supernatural experience. Of course, as a rational man- and as you would put it, as a suspicious bastard- my first instinct was to suspect poisoning with some sort of hallucinogen. Doctor Lawn has confirmed that no such poisoning has taken place, and since the few staff with access to this room are untrained in theatrical special effects, the only other explanation is that I must have seen a ghost.”

“So… what? You want me to get Visit out here with his pamphlets?”

“No,” said the Patrician. “I want you to question it.”

Vimes blinked. “Sorry,” he said. “I could have sworn you just asked me to question a ghost. Are you absolutely sure you haven’t been poisoned again?”

“Quite sure,” said Vetinari. “And frankly, Vimes, I’m not sure how this is any different to questioning any of the city’s other differently alive citizens.”

“Is that a trick question?” Vimes asked, but he already knew the answer. He sighed. “Alright. What exactly am I questioning it about?”

“Assassins’ Guild business,” said Vetinari. “Or, more specifically, something that ought to have been Guild business.”

“So why aren’t you dealing with it amongst yourselves?”

Vetinari gave Vimes a sideways glance. “This is… something of a personal matter.”

“Oh gods,” said Vimes. “What did you _do_?”

“Nothing, unfortunately,” Vetinari said. “And I must say, the ghost seems rather displeased about that. You see, Vimes, it- or rather, _he_ \- is my father. And it seems that his inhumation may well have been a murder all along.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When there's something strange in your neighbourhood, who you gonna call? Sam Vimes, apparently.
> 
> In which we see the ghost in question, Vimes has a variety of small and uncomfortable thoughts, and Sybil is entirely unhelpful.

It wasn’t until late in the day that Vimes was able to speak to Sybil about what had happened, after he’d done a full day at Pseudopolis Yard on half a night’s sleep (and seven cups of coffee) and read to Young Sam. After that, there was just about time for a bath and a fresh uniform- this was still work, after all- and, finally, a chance to tell his wife everything that had happened that morning.

“...so I’ve got to spend the next few nights at the palace,” Vimes said. “I’ll always be here at six, I promise.”

Sybil looked up from her knitting. “I know, Sam.”

“It’s important.”

“I _know_ , Sam.” She gave him a knowing smile. “I’m sure whatever Havelock’s planning will turn out well.”

“He’s not planning anything.” Vimes frowned. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Oh, nothing. Have a nice time, dear.”

“It’s work, not a bloody sleepover!”

“Quite right, Sam. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Right, well, that definitely rules out whatever _you’ve_ got in mind then.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Sybil plucked a ball of wool from the dribbly jaws of a swamp dragon. “I was extremely fond of Havelock back in the day, if he’d ever asked _me_ to spend the night-”

“I’m going,” said Vimes. “Goodnight, love.”

He could have sworn he heard Sybil laugh as he left the room.

* * *

Later that night, Vimes found himself lying on the floor at the bottom of Vetinari’s bed, waiting for a (possibly literally) bloody ghost to appear. He’d been offered one side of the bed, but had refused; it was a little bit weird sharing a bed with your boss, however many times you’d already seen them in their pyjamas after some unfortunate injury or other.

It was just before two o’clock when a thought occurred to Vimes- one that had been brewing ever since he’d realised that the only ghost _he’d_ ever seen had been in a play Sybil had taken him to see.

“Sir?”

“Hmm?”

“This ghost isn’t going to start with all that poetic rubbish is it? All ‘to be or not to be’ and what have you?”

“Ah, now _that_ is the question,” said Vetinari. “You can ask him yourself.”

Vimes turned, and a faint glow in the room that he’d assumed to be moonlight coalesced into a human form. The ghost looked an awful lot like Vetinari, if a little less spindly and a little more flamboyantly dressed- not that either of those was difficult.

“The late Lord Vetinari, I presume?”

The ghost inclined its head. “I am.”

“Mind if I ask you a few questions, sir?”

The ghost glanced at the living Vetinari, who nodded.

“Very well,” said the ghost, turning back to Vimes. “You are aware of the circumstances of my death, I assume?”

“Yep,” said Vimes. “Written off as an unorthodox inhumation at the time despite the Guild denying all knowledge. If I remember rightly, you were on the list, but nobody was recorded as taking the commission.”

“Indeed,” said the ghost, sounding uncannily like Vimes’s own Lord Vetinari. Vimes paused at that thought- since when was the twisty old bastard _his_? He shook his head and continued.

“The Watch was a bit… substandard at the time so we’ve not got our own records. I can probably get hold of the Guild’s though- they’re not gonna like it, but there’s not much they can do about that.” He allowed himself a brief, nasty smile. “I’ll need a bit more information from you first though sir, if that’s alright?”

And so Vimes continued to question the ghost, until the clocks in the city chimed the half hour- at which point it quickly faded, leaving the room in darkness again.

“I expect he’ll come back tomorrow, if you want to ask him anything else,” said Vetinari.

“How do you know that?”

“Because he did the same thing last night too. I suspect it’s a pattern- I believe it was around two-thirty when they found the body.”

“You _believe_?” Vimes frowned. “You weren’t told?”

“I was nine, Sam,” Vetinari said softly, and gods, wasn’t that awful. Vimes had never heard the man speak like that- had never quite realised how young he’d been when it happened.

“But your mother-”

“-had already passed away by then, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” They remained in silence for some time after that, with Vimes feeling vaguely guilty as well as unsettled by the ghost.

“…Sir?”

“Yes, Vimes?”

“You still got room in that bed for one more?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A third chapter, two awkward conversations, and one Commander of the Watch having a minor internal crisis about his employer's personal life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, I'm afraid, and entirely lacking in plot. It's been a bit of a week. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this brief interlude more than Vimes does.

 When the ghost appeared for the third time, Vimes was already waiting with his notebook and candle, ready to start his questions. The ghost, however, had other ideas. It stared at him, then at Vetinari, and frowned.

“Havelock, is this really appropriate?”

Vetinari, to his credit, barely even blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re supposed to be avenging my death, not taking commoners into your bed.”

“That’s exactly what I _am_ doing,” said the Patrician. “I’m a politician, not a watchman- it’s their job to solve crime in my city so that I can get on with the business of running it. Which, by the way, is becoming increasingly difficult while being woken up every night.”

“But do you really have to bring one of them into your chambers? That seems highly irregular.”

“Not at all. Commander Vimes is-”

“Vimes?” The ghost looked shocked. “You let a _Vimes_ be alone with you in private, when you rule Ankh-Morpork? You know your history, my boy, you know they can’t be trusted.”

Vimes opened his mouth to defend himself, but quickly shut it when Vetinari got there first. No point offending the only witness to a crime when someone more tactful could stand up for you instead.

“On the contrary, Father, there is nobody I trust more than the Commander of the Watch.” Vetinari glanced at Vimes, his eyes twinkling with amusement and something that Vimes might have considered mischief if he hadn’t known better. “There is nobody I would rather have present at this time than Sir Samuel.”

Vimes felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. That had sounded… suggestive. He understood why Vetinari had done it, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to melt through the floor, and preferably out of existence altogether. He was going to think about that now whether he liked it or not; in fairness, he thought, he probably could enjoy himself in that situation if it was going to piss off some toff, even a dead one. Best not to dwell on that too much though- he had a job to do.

“Can we get on with these questions, gentlemen?” he said. “None of us has got all night.”

* * *

 “Did you mean that, sir?” asked Vimes when the ghost had disappeared once more. “The bit about trust, I mean.”

“I understood what you were referring to, Vimes,” said Vetinari. “And yes, I did. Very few people can be trusted to be alone in a room with me without wanting to commit murder- and you express the urge to do so on a regular basis without ever giving in to it. Clearly, I am safe in your very capable hands.”

“Right.” Vimes shifted uneasily. That too had felt suggestive, but he couldn’t quite tell if Vetinari was messing with him, or if it was just his imagination running wild after tonight’s ghostly encounter. Or maybe it was something else- and, being a copper, he couldn’t resist poking at it.

“Your dad didn’t seem that surprised to see a bloke in your room, sir,” he said. “Sounded like he was more offended about it being _me_.”

“Ah, yes. Well, these things have always been tolerated amongst the upper classes to some extent, providing that it remained discreet of course.”

“Oh,” said Vimes. “So does that mean you’re…” He trailed off, unsure about how to continue. The way they’d always talked about this on Cockbill Street probably wasn’t the kind of language Vetinari was used to- if he was used to talking about it at all.

“Does it mean I’m _what_ , exactly?”

“Erm… does it mean you’re… used to having men in your bedroom?”

Vetinari studied him very carefully for a moment before answering. “No, Vimes, I am not. Certainly not for extended periods of time, anyway.”

“So does that mean you and Lady Margolotta…?”

“We are friends, Sir Samuel, much as I am friends with your own beloved wife. You yourself are more familiar with this room than she is.”

“Right. Okay.” Vimes lay down and stared at the ceiling. If Vetinari hadn’t been sleeping with men, and he hadn’t been sleeping with the women he was known to be close to, then…

“Sorry to keep banging on about this sir,” he said, immediately cringing internally at his own choice of words, “but does that mean you’re still-”

“That’s a rather impertinent question even for you, Vimes” said Vetinari, a hint of fond exasperation creeping into his voice. “And if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Sir?”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning. _Please_ just go to sleep.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vimes starts getting somewhere. Vetinari doesn't.

“How is your investigation coming along, Commander?” Vetinari asked on the following night.

“It’s not,” said Vimes. “I don’t think he wants to give me a straight answer to anything- it’s taking me all my time to get any answers at all, and I’m fairly sure some of them are lies.”

“Yes,” Vetinari sighed. “He seems to be under the impression that I ought to go out and inhume whoever’s responsible, but unfortunately that’s impossible until we know who that is. And of course,” he added quickly as Vimes began to scowl, “I would prefer to resolve the matter legally, through the Watch, if possible.”

“You might need to have a word with him then. I know he wasn’t drinking too much or taking anything he shouldn’t have been, I know he was at home all evening, and I know he was dizzy and sick before he died. But none of it adds up yet- he’s hiding something from me, I know it. I just don’t know what- oh gods, never mind, here he comes.”

The late Lord Vetinari had materialised again, and this time Vimes managed to get the first of his questions in before the ghost could ask any of his own.

“What exactly were you doing at two o’clock in the morning?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Vimes had never seen a dead man look so shocked, and that was saying a lot in Ankh-Morpork. “I _said_ , sir, that I’d like to know exactly what it was you were up to at that time of night.”

The ghost turned straight to Vetinari. “Havelock, are you going to let a watchman speak to me like that?”

“Do you know,” said Vetinari, “I rather think I am.” He propped himself up with his pillows, looking at Vimes with barely disguised glee. “Do carry on, Commander.”

Vimes nodded. “Just waiting for the gentleman to answer my question, sir.”

“I was working,” said the ghost, sounding even more offended than he appeared. Vimes snorted.

“Pull the other one, mate. Nothing I’ve heard about you suggests you’d be doing something useful at that time of night. I’d believe it from this one,” he said, pointing at the current Patrician, “but I definitely don’t believe it from _you_. So it’s best you just come out with it.”

“Alright. I was… not working, as such, but planning. Thinking of the family’s future, if you will.”

“I see,” said Vimes. “Care to give me any more details?”

“My sister-in-law had recently suggested that it was time for us to really make a name for ourselves. We had the money and the titles, but our influence outside of the family business was… somewhat lacking.”

Vimes rolled his eyes. “Let me guess: politics.”

“Indeed,” said the ghost. “I entertained a number of people that evening, hoping to plant the idea of a Vetinari in the Oblong Office, but I’m afraid I wasn’t particularly successful. By two o’clock I was sat at my desk with a decanter of port, wondering whether it would be best for us to put the idea off until young Havelock came of age. Roberta had always been of the opinion that we ought to wait, but up until that point I had disagreed.”

“And you’d done so because you wanted the job for yourself?”

“Obviously.” The ghost rolled his eyes. “Though after those meetings it seemed like more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Uh-huh,” said Vimes, sending a swift glance and a smile in Vetinari’s direction. “Who exactly were your meetings with?”

“Now let me see… several of the guild leaders, the Venturis _and_ the Selachiis, Lord Ramkin- oh, and some representatives of the Assassins’ Guild, though they were officially there to discuss Havelock’s education. Some of them were Winder’s supporters, of course, but by then people were already beginning to tire of him. I’d thought I’d managed to get some of them on side that evening but… I may have been mistaken.”

“What makes you say that, sir?”

The ghost said nothing, and simply gestured at his own transparent body.

“Right,” said Vimes. “And which of his supporters did you speak to that night?”

“Lady Venturi, I believe, and the head of the Merchants’ Guild.”

Vimes braced himself. It was time to ask the question he’d been dreading.

“And Lord Ramkin?”

“Oh, no, he was always on our side, ever since Roberta suggested a match between Havelock and young Sybil.” The ghost paused. “Did that work out?”

Vimes and Vetinari looked at each other, both of them suppressing a laugh. “Not quite.”

“Oh?” said the ghost. “What happened?”

Vimes took great pleasure in his answer. “I married her. And before you start shouting,” he said, holding up a hand to prevent any interruptions, “I want you to know that _she_ asked _me_ , so I haven’t stolen your son’s good lady.”

The ghost gave the two living men a rather pointed look. “Yes, I can see _that_ ,” he said, and promptly disappeared.

“Is he always like that?” Vimes asked.

“Oh yes,” said Vetinari. “Madam used to say that he never took anything seriously, but between you and me, I think it was more that he took the wrong things seriously.”

“Huh.” Vimes thought for a moment. “Take after your mother then, do you?”

Vetinari smiled brightly. “Why, Sir Samuel, that was very nearly a compliment.” He gave Vimes a friendly nudge, unexpected enough to make the watchman jump. “I may even need to write it down in my diary.”

Vimes narrowed his eyes. “...Are you flirting with me?”

“Oh come now, does that really sound like something I’d do?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Goodnight, Vimes,” the Patrician said cheerfully, before he blew the last of the candles out.

* * *

 

Vimes awoke the next morning, warm and comfortable, sliding an arm around the sleeping body next to him. A warm hand covered his own, linking their fingers, and he buried his face in one bony shoulder.

Wait.

_Bony?_

Vimes sat up in alarm. To his horror, he’d completely forgotten where he was, and now he was going to die in the bottom of a scorpion pit. Admittedly, he’d never known Vetinari to actually use the scorpion pits, or even if they existed at all, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Vetinari was not a man to be touched casually at the best of times, let alone during the little sleep he managed to get- and certainly not by mistakenly cuddling him. Vimes scrambled out of bed and quickly began to dress.

“Is something wrong?”

Vimes jumped, dropped his boot on his foot, and swore. “What?”

Vetinari yawned. “You seem very keen to leave, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, something came up.” Vimes took his chances and glanced at the Patrician, who smiled just enough for him to notice it. _He knows,_ he thought. _He knows, and if I stay here any longer I’m either going to die or-_

He snatched up the last of his clothes, and without another word, he fled.

Behind him, unnoticed, Vetinari was staring at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, sighed, and turned over to go back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A half-dressed Commander Vimes sprinting through the streets of Ankh-Morpork is, at this point, no longer a surprise to anybody.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vimes has some professional- and decidedly unprofessional- revelations.

“You really must go back to the palace tonight, Sam,” said Sybil, placing a mug of tea in front of her husband. “I’m sure Havelock will understand if you explain what happened.”

“I’m not,” said Vimes. “I’m not even sure that’s ever happened to him on purpose before.”

“Well, you could always ask him.”

Vimes choked on his tea. “What?! What d’you want me to do, walk into his office like ‘oh, hello sir, I was just wondering how you felt about an unexpected cuddle from a colleague?’”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All you have to do is tell him it was an accident.” Sybil sipped her own tea thoughtfully. “...It _was_ an accident, wasn’t it?”

“Of course it bloody was!”

“Well then, there’s nothing to worry about. Just because Havelock isn’t married doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how things work. Although…”

Vimes felt a sudden stab of panic. “Although? What does ‘although’ mean?”

“I’m just saying, Sam, it might do both of you good if you _did_ try it on purpose every now and then. Havelock’s very fond of you, you know, and he doesn’t get much in the way of affection.”

Vimes frowned. “Wouldn’t that bother you?”

“Sam, when I married you I knew I’d have to share you with the city.” Sybil smiled. “Sharing you with Havelock wouldn’t be all that different.”

“...Right,” said Vimes. “I’m not sure I actually _want_ to-”

“Perhaps not, dear- but that wasn’t your first objection, was it?” Sybil stood to leave the room, kissing her husband’s cheek as she passed. “Just have a think about it. Oh, and send my love to Havelock tonight, won’t you?”

As Sybil walked away, Vimes stared gloomily into his half-finished cup of tea. He might have to actually give this some consideration.

Bugger.

* * *

 

Vimes lay awake that night, going over and over the case in his mind. Something was missing- he was almost there, but not quite, and it was getting on his nerves. In fairness, it was better than thinking about what had happened that morning, but still. He heard the mattress creak, and hoped the Patrician wasn’t going to talk to him just yet- but, sadly, he did.

“Vimes?”

“...Sir?”

“Ah. I was going to ask if you were awake, but that seems somewhat redundant.”

Vimes sighed. “Can’t sleep, not while this case is still bothering me. All the pieces are there now, I just can’t quite get them into place.”

“I see. Would you like to discuss it?”

“No,” Vimes lied. There was a pause, and he could almost hear the cynical eyebrow raising in the dark.

“Alright, fine,” he said. “Your father’s last memories are too fuzzy for me to get much out of them. He talked about being dizzy at the end, but that could mean anything- blood loss, asphyxiation, poison, literally everything that could have happened explains why he felt like that.”

“Dizziness is certainly involved in a lot of inhumations. I remember the dizzy spells I had with those poisoned candles- arsenic is slow-acting in small doses, of course, so _I_ would have been fine eventually regardless of what happened. Something like strychnine or cyanide, on the other hand-”

“That’s it,” said Vimes. “That’s the answer. Ye gods, I could just about kiss you.” He hauled Vetinari forwards, kissed him firmly on the mouth, and then sprang out of bed, lighting a candle and snatching paper off the desk to write everything down without even bothering to get dressed. When he’d finished, he turned, still clutching his notes- and paused.

Vetinari was staring at him, apparently completely stunned.

It was at that point that Vimes realised what he’d done not five minutes previously.

“…I should go,” he said. “Got to get this stuff down to Pseudopolis Yard.”

“At this hour? For a cold case? I’m not sure even _you’re_ that dedicated, Commander. Get some more sleep first.”

“If I don’t do it now then I’ll forget by tomorrow. It’s like- when the clacks lights blink on and off. A wossname, flash of inspiration. Let me just-” Vimes shoved his notes at Vetinari, who scanned them quickly as Vimes awkwardly hurried to get dressed. As the Patrician took the papers, Vimes couldn’t help but notice the furtive little glances being sent his way. He hoped that his recent tendency to get accidentally physical hadn’t put the man on his guard; Vimes had no intention of ending up surrounded by scorpions any time soon.

“A poisoning,” Vetinari said, and Vimes nodded.

“Yeah. Quick question- how did your father restock his drinks cabinet?”

“He bought straight from the Merchants’- oh, I _see_.”

“Yep,” said Vimes. “It was in the port. It had to be quick-acting or someone would have noticed- cyanide probably explains the symptoms, but I’ll get Cheery to look into it properly first thing in the morning.”

“Of course,” said Vetinari. “I assume this is something to do with the visit from the head of the guild?”

“Most likely,” said Vimes. “Though once we trace it back far enough I’m pretty sure I know who really wanted it done.”

The Patrician nodded. “Lord Winder.”

“Yeah,” said Vimes. He hesitated before adding, “I’m sorry.”

Vetinari smiled faintly. “No need to apologise. I always suspected it was something like this, but it does help to finally have a proper answer.” He paused. “Thank you.”

Vimes shrugged. “You asked me to do my job, and I did it.”

“Still, I’m very grateful. If there’s anything I can do-”

“Don’t,” said Vimes. “You’re always trying to give me stuff. You’ve used up all the titles and we’ve got plenty of dartboards, just leave it.”

“Actually, I was thinking of something for _you_ specifically. Something more… personal.”

Vimes eyed him warily. “You’re not going to do anything weird, are you?”

“Such as?”

“I dunno. Putting nipples on the ducal breastplate?”

Vetinari’s mouth twitched at the corners, much like it did whenever Vimes gave Lord Rust an earful of Shades invective. “I thought perhaps dinner would be more agreeable.”

“Oh no,” said Vimes. “You’re not dragging me to some posh do where I’ve got to wear tights. Not again.”

“Dinner for two, Sam. You and I, in private, _without_ a dress code.”

“What, like a- a date?”

“Yes, if you wish.”

“And by ‘without a dress code’ you mean…?”

“I meant there would be no need for formality- on my part as well as yours.”

Vimes grinned. “I’m not gonna pass up a chance to see you in your civvies.”

“It would hardly come as a surprise, Vimes, I’m already in my nightshirt now.”

Yes, he was, wasn’t he? It was only now that Vimes realised quite how different it was to the Patrician’s work clothes- as though his brain had been blocking it out to get through the last few nights. It was a soft, dark grey, open at the collar and, all of a sudden, very distracting indeed.

“I really should go,” said Vimes. “I expect you’ll be glad to have a bed to yourself again, eh?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Vetinari. “You might not have much of a murder investigation any more, but _I’m_ not quite finished with you yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's it- my first ever proper multi-chaptered fic complete! Thank you all so much for your lovely comments, and for being patient with me while waiting for the final chapter to arrive. It's been tremendous fun :)


End file.
